Black As My Name
by MorganRigelBlack
Summary: "To be a Black made you practically royal." Electra wasn't sure how much she believed in that statement, but she figured turning the world on its head was certainly within reach. Rated T to be safe.
1. Pleione's Daughter: Part 1

**The Tale of Blotter and Plack**

 **Prologue:**

 _Waiting Room, Blishwick"s Medical Centre for Expectant Mothers_

 _31 July, 1980._

The weather was rather unsettled that month. The two men in the room peered at the sky intermittently but caught no sight of the sun. The bespectacled, messy-haired one sighed. _This isn't how summer ought to be,_ he groused. As if he had voiced the thought aloud, the second man, with long dark hair and a handsome, if haughty face shot him a rueful look. "It seems Dumbledore was right, after all. He's got the Dementors on his side. Only a few, though, by the looks of it. If Azkaban's been compromised, the Isles would be frigid by now and most of us would be soulless quivering husks." He grinned at his words, though the other man did not look too amused.

"Mr. Prongs would like Mr. Padfoot to know that his sense of humour is far too macabre for anyone's liking."

"Mr. Padfoot respectfully reminds Mr. Prongs that said gentleman has no sense of humour whatsoever."

"Mr. Prongs advises Mr. Padfoot to bear in mind that he has a son on the way, is therefore highly nervous and that Mr. Padfoot can stuff his sorry excuses for jokes well up his you-know-where."

"Mr. Padfoot would like to ask when Mr. Prongs stopped swearing."

"Mr. Prongs wants him to remember that Mrs. Prongs has a sense of hearing more acute than Mr. Moony and sadly does not believe in the appropriate embellishment of language."

"Mr. Padfoot finally understands the reason his hair turned blue when Mrs. Prongs developed a taste for salty herring and peanut butter."

"Saying 'bloody buggering hell' was _not_ a good idea, Sirius. There was an ex-Head Girl in the room and one at the mercies of her hormones." "You were there too, ex-Bighead Boy." "Details, details" grinned James Potter, flapping his hands wildly. "Besides, I swear like a wounded pirate".

"Flesh wounds?" queried Sirius Black with a face far too innocent to be believed. "Nah, the kind where you're shopping for the peg leg and have to kill your parrot because he won't stop making Long John Silver jokes"*. "Eh?" "Muggle book, called Treasure Island. Lily likes it."

Sirius grunted his acknowledgement and the men lapsed into comfortable silence, broken occasionally by the padding of feet when either of them paced around for a few minutes before plopping back on the couches. _James Potter, soon to be a father,_ he thought. The idea sounded more than good, it sounded _right._ James was his best friend, his brother in all but blood. When he'd married Lily Evans straight out of school, Sirius had gained a sister, a sister who'd hexed him six ways to Sunday all through school but one he loved nevertheless. It was also worth mentioning that James' parents had effectively taken him on as a second son when Sirius was sixteen and had run away from home after a falling out with his bigoted, pure-blood supremacist family.

Sirius was jolted out of his musings when the mediwitch entered the room, slightly flustered. "Lord Potter!" she called out. "Your wife's about to have the baby!" James shot to his feet, not even bothering to go through his usual "James, please" at the mention of his title and darted in. Within a moment, he doubled back and beckoned to Sirius to join him. Sirius was about to rise but the mediwitch insisted that only James be present. He would've snuck into the room in his Animagus form, that of a great black dog (appropriately named Padfoot) but such infractions were barely above the pale in the Hogwarts infirmary and would've seen him kicked out most ignominiously here. He'd just have to wait until Prongs Junior made his way out into the world. Too bad patience was never his strongest suit.

As Sirius speculated on the names Lily would be calling James (arrogant toerag was the most likely), his attention settled on a Healer by the door, a trainee judging from how old she looked. She was carrying a bundle in her arms and looked like she was facing the Grim. The thought made him look down to check that he hadn't transformed instinctively under stress. He was quite relieved to find all his limbs still in their human shape and raised one coal-black brow at the Healer. "Is something the matter, Healer… Fall?" he read off the metal badge pinned to the front of her robes. She nodded nervously but didn't seem to be able to continue. Sirius' exasperation reared its head and he intoned "Well?" in a tone that left the Healer stuttering even more. "Someone's left a baby at the entrance, Mr. Black" she squeaked.

Despite himself, Sirius felt his lips curve. "I'm pants at babysitting, I'll have you know. Do find someone else to hold the sprog, will you?" he asked. "Uh, that's not what I meant, Mr. Black" said the healer, looking as if he'd bite her any moment. "Then perhaps you'd mind cutting to the chase and telling me what the fuss is all about?" asked Sirius, who was by now thoroughly sick of it all. "We did a Lineage Test to find out who the baby's parents were and how she could've possibly ended up here, Mr. Black. The maternal side was entirely masked, sir. It was almost as if they knew we'd perform the test and specifically didn't want us to find out the mother's identity" the Healer was almost wringing her hands and Sirius wondered why a strange sense of foreboding was stealing over him. The Healer evidently thought that blurting the words out in one go was the best course of action and squeaked "You're the father, Mr. Black".

A suffocating silence enclosed the room and the very air seemed to weigh heavier on Sirius. For a second, he thought he'd heard the Healer entirely wrong, but her expectant look dashed his hopes. _Expectant,_ he thought wryly. _What does she think I'll say, Hoorah, I'm a father? For Merlin's sake, I don't even know who the mother is,_ if _she can be unmasked, that is. For that matter, how the_ bloody hell _did she know I'd be here?_ His thoughts spiralled in an entirely different direction from his supposed fatherhood. _James and Lily picked Blishwick because St. Mungo's is too much of a security risk. If the one who sent the baby knew where I am, this poses even more danger to them. We have to get out of here,_ now, _and with the baby_. _We might be able to find the mother with her, later._

Whipping out his wand, Sirius performed several Hit Wizard-level checks for tracking charms, hidden portkeys and other sources of danger the baby's apparel might pose. Finding none, he asked the Healer, "How old is she?" "A week old, sir" said the Healer. "Too young to Apparate with, then" he muttered. He picked up the baby, ignoring the Healer's startled cry at his abruptness and barged into the ward. He was greeted by a beaming James with "Meet your godson, Padfoot" and an ecstatic, if tired Lily. He ignored James" question of "What's with the bundle?" and asked the Healer, "Is Lily healthy?" "Yes, sir." "The baby?" "He's fine, Mr. Black." Turning to James he barked, " _Someone_ knows we're here. Emergency Portkey home, now!" Lily gasped, but James turned sombre and held out a length of rope. They all took hold of it as James cried "Sanctuary!" and the rope began to glow blue. Three adults and two babies vanished, leaving a very confused mediwitch behind in the room.

* * *

The little group landed in the living room of the flat James and Sirius had shared for a year after graduation, and which Sirius now lived in alone. It was a good-sized apartment and now filled with all the signs of the charming profligacy which so characterized Sirius; motorcycle helmet on the coffee table, a half-filled crystal tumbler and decanter on the sideboard and a stack of Playwizard magazines on the leather sofa. Sirius waved his wand in a long, sweeping motion, banishing everything smoothly to a corner. He turned to James, who was holding a rather nauseous looking Lily up and supporting his son and asked, "Evans OK?"

Lily sat down gently on the sofa and said "I'll be fine, Sirius. Oh, and it's Potter, now" she smiled faintly.

Sirius was too preoccupied in his thoughts to even register his slip, much less laugh about it. He frowned to himself and transfigured the coffee table into a crib. Laying the second baby down, he turned to the Potters and told them the story from beginning to end. James' Hit Wizard-trained side fully agreed with all Sirius had said, and he ran a second set of diagnostics over the baby. Once she was declared safe, they turned to the more pressing question of her identity.

"We don't know how much of what Fall told you was true. She could have been Imperiused and ordered to relay this story to you, Sirius. Hang on a moment, there's one set of possibilities we can rule out at this moment; whether or not she's part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight" James sat up straighter and summoned the Potter family ritual bowl to himself. He picked up the bowl and the ceremonial dagger, handed it to Sirius and said, "One drop in the bowl, Padfoot". Sirius walked over to the baby and gingerly pricked her finger, to which the tot screamed blue murder. Wincing at the output from such an impressive pair of lungs, Sirius idly wondered if she was part banshee. _There's a good chance she's Black, though; my dear, sweet mum used exactly that volume on me,_ he thought and let the drop of blood slide into the bowl.

Golden mist surged upwards in a cloud, a testament to the current generation of Potters' alignment with the Light. It had never turned black, the sign of the Dark, but had glowed silver, for magical neutrality for more than a few Lord Potters before. It surrounded the baby in the crib, testing her ancestry, pushing against her magic, seeking her roots. The mist turned silver and emitted sparks furiously. As abruptly as it had arisen, it vanished into the bowl, leaving silver letters hanging in mid-air.

 _Line Heir, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ , it read. Sirius' heart dropped to the vicinity of his trainers as he read the words forming further, a spidery tree that he knew all too well, having seen it displayed proudly in the London townhouse his family owned.

 _Daughter of Sirius Orion Black and…_ it drew a blank there, something he had never seen before. _The mother's not a Muggle, then. It takes an uncommonly powerful witch to hide family magic._ "Padfoot, who've you slept with a year back who was this powerful? As far as I can recall, your usual types are twittering birds who haven't two brain cells to rub together but possess rather large … assets" said an astonished James. "Hang on, you never did tell me who you were with on that stake-out in Bulgaria. Could it be her?" "No" said Sirius slowly, " Bulgaria was this Spanish Hit-Wizard, Andres Cambron and I _know_ there was no one else".

As if on cue, both babies began to wail in tandem and James, Lily and Sirius flinched at the noise. A frazzled Lily took her son away to nurse, and Sirius was left pondering the dilemma of his new-found fatherhood while trying to preserve his eardrums. He gingerly picked up the baby and nestled her into the crook of his arm. Her wails slowly subsided to a sniffling hiccup, and he turned to look at James, who was watching him with a grin. "Fatherhood suits you, Padfoot" he snickered. "Git" grumbled Sirius idly. He was in a rather unusual state. As a Hit-Wizard and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he had commitments that he hadn't made with such an eventuality in mind. Of course, he could hand the baby over to one of his rather numerous relatives, but there was no way in hell that he would wish such doom, er, upbringing on _anyone,_ no matter how much he hated them. Of course, he could always make exceptions for the blonde peacock his cousin Narcissa had married, and Snivellus Snape was in a league of his own, but still… Ah, well, a bloke could dream, couldn't he?

Sirius mused silently, while Lily fed her son and his daughter, then put them to sleep. In blissful contrast to her screaming display, the baby went to sleep in quite an angelic fashion, for which Sirius was grateful. The night passed slowly, with James and Sirius looking after two infants while Lily alternated between feeding and resting. As the morning sunshine streamed into the flat, Sirius made his decision after a night's hard thinking. It wasn't one he liked in the slightest, but he didn't have too many options to choose from, either.

"I'm resigning from the Order and from the DMLE, at least 'til she's older. Uncle Alphard left me a tidy sum when I got blasted off the tree; it should be enough to support both of us for a while" announced Sirius at breakfast. "Don't be daft, Sirius" said James blearily, poking around with his cereal, "we'd like to take care of her for you".

"Mate, you can't" began Sirius, only to be overruled.

"The Healers said that trying for another baby is going to be really hard" said James. "Frankly, I'm surprised we were able to have Harry so early, Mum and Dad had given up hopes of a child when I came along. Lily always wanted more than one, and now we have a second child to help raise, if not bear. Look" he growled, seeing that Sirius was about to object again, "I'm Lord Potter, and you're a son of House Potter. I don't want to push it, Padfoot, but I'll invoke Headship if I must". Sirius knew when he was defeated and agreed to James' plan despite his misgivings. "Thank you, brother" said James, sincerely.

Sirius started. This had to be one of James' flashes of intuition. It often took him down paths that seemed unnerving but had never failed yet. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was Seer blood in James. The previous Lady Potter, Euphemia, was from India and had moved to Britain when she was a child, so he didn't know enough about her ancestry. The lessons in wizarding genealogy that his parents had drilled into him never hinted at clairvoyance on the Potter side. He attributed the uncanny ability Uncle Monty had in detecting mischief to a side effect of raising James. "So" he said, "Harry, eh?"

"Mm-hm, Harry James Potter" said Lily. "Harry after Monty's father Henry. Quite a sight to behold in the Wizengamot, apparently. Anyways, what d'you want to call her?" she asked, gesturing to the baby in the crib.

" Something to do with a star, yet not the more ridiculous names people in my family seem to favour. I nearly got called Procyon, you know" he shuddered.

"How about Electra?" said James cheekily.

"I'm not naming my sprog after my motorcycle, thanks" said Sirius heatedly, but the damage had already been done. Lily had perked up at the mention of the name, and would no doubt launch into the significance and the mythology behind it. All Sirius knew was that Electra was part of the Pleiades and thus, a star. He was excellent at Astronomy, not History, magical or mythical. He could pinpoint the cluster with precision but didn't give two hoots as to who the nymph had fathered and with which god. In truth, it was a name that would check off all the right boxes. Cool enough for Muggles and traditional enough for pure-bloods. All that was needed now was a middle name. "Electra Lily Black. What do you think?"

"Athena's a nicer middle name" said Lily.

"Honestly, you get the weirdest ideas, Lily" sniggered James, but gained a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Athena would be crazy, but it's a tribute to McGonagall for putting up with the Marauders, so yeah, I agree with Lily."

Sirius couldn't argue with that, and the world was graced with the screams of the newly named (and hungry) Harry James Potter and Electra Athena Black.

* * *

Reviews to me are like socks to Dobby. Please review!

The sentence with the asterisk was quoted from Scott Adams' _The Dilbert Principle._

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own The Dilbert Principle. Life has dealt me a singularly hard hand (sniffs).


	2. Pleione's Daughter: Part 2

_The Smallest Sitting Room, Potter Manor_

 _25 December, 1980_

James Potter was a very lucky man, in that he was married to Lily Evans. One of the less obvious, but highly appreciated benefits of this was that his best friend, one Sirius Black would have to refrain from waking him up on Christmas Day. Previously, this august ceremony was performed by Sirius (in human form for three years, and thereon in dog form) jumping repeatedly up and down on James' bed at an unholy hour in the morning, causing him to fall in a heap to the floor. When he was sufficiently awake, Sirius would yell "Presents!" and drag the hapless soul to the foot of the Christmas tree, all the while dodging pillows thrown at him by the other irate occupants of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Fortunately for James, his marital status (and a healthy fear of Lily Potter) resulted in Sirius gazing out of a large bay window on the snow-covered grounds of Potter Manor, nursing a cup of hot chocolate that morning.

Closer inspection would show one that Sirius Black was, at the moment, incapable of jumping on any beds. His left leg was wrapped in a metal brace which prevented his walking too fast, and he was using a cane, propped up against the glass of the windows at the moment. His leg would heal completely, and (more importantly to him) he could ride his beloved motorcycle again, but it would take time, and required patience, which he possessed only in minuscule quantities. Still, it could have been much worse. As he sipped at his chocolate, his mind idly wandered to the reasons for his currently hindered mobility.

 _A month ago..._

 _Harry and Electra had been put to sleep, and James and Lily would be turning in soon. Sirius was tempted to curl up and go to sleep on one of the armchairs, but decided that he would drag himself up to his room. He had no wish to wake up at an odd angle with his back and arms giving him a world of pain. As he got up, he suddenly remembered the report he was supposed to finish reading. He was supposed to be tracking down the Lestranges, but Barty Crouch (stuck-up prat) had declared that there would be a conflict of interest and set him to tail Evan Rosier. He didn't particularly like the insinuations Crouch's tone held; Bella may have been his cousin, but hadn't he made his hatred for her vehemently clear in the two times he'd gone against her in battle? The Black name would forever hold him back, probably. He was very tempted to tell Crouch that Bella's mother was Druella Black, formerly Rosier and see how well His Starchiness would take it._

 _The damned report was in his flat, though. He'd had to discuss it that evening with Spinks, a Muggle-born junior Auror with an awful name and attitude twice as bad. Merlin, Crouch seemed nice compared to Spinks! At the very least, Crouch held back from baiting him because of his name. Stupid Spinks wouldn't let up on his disdain for all things pure-blooded and Black. He'd nearly reprimanded the man twice for unprofessional conduct. Still, he at least didn't have to do any active tailing. Being a Senior Hit Wizard had its perks; he was only sent into the field when the cauldron became too hot for the rookies to handle. It mired him in bureaucracy, though, and ruined his evenings, like now. Still, one couldn't have everything in life._

 _He decided to go back to his flat and pick up the report. He'd have to be discreet about it; it wouldn't do for anyone to know that he was staying with the Potters. James and Lily had enough of a target on their heads, without him adding to it. The new arrangement was very convenient, but had cost them the use of the flat as a safe house. He'd have to let Prongs know, though._

 _"_ _Tilly!" he called. A house-elf appeared in a tea-towel toga stamped with the Potter crest, flapping bat-like ears. "Master Sirius called?" she squeaked. Sirius smiled warmly. He'd always liked the elf. "If James wants to know where I am, tell him I'm at the London flat finishing up a report, will you?" "Tilly will tell if Lord Potter asks, sir!" "Thank you, Tilly. You may go now" he said, and strode to the Floo. Taking a pinch of glittering powder, he called "Padfoot's Pad!" and vanished in a roar of green flames._

 _As he stopped spinning and stepped out into his flat, his instincts told him something was very, very wrong. He needn't have relied on instinct, though. The flash of green light heading his way spoke volumes to him. He rolled away behind a chair and came up in a crouch, his signature duelling stance. With one glance, he'd taken in the three figures in black robes and white masks, his heightened sense of scent (due to Padfoot) warning him of a fourth lurking in the shadows. Sirius tried to ascertain the identity of the attackers, while his highly trained mind took in every tiny detail in the room. The flat seemed relatively intact, proof that his assailants didn't have to force their way in. This could only mean one thing; that they were in the know about the wards and how to breach them._

 _Betrayal, his mind helpfully supplied. The wards were obscure Black ones that were barely legal. They were impenetrable but for one flaw; anyone who was keyed into the wards could key other people into them. The only ones who were keyed in were James, Lily, Moony and Wormtail, and they would_ never _turn him in to the Dark Tosser's followers… wait, he'd keyed Spinks in for the evening! Stupid, stupid, stupid! All Spinks had to do was to tell someone else, presumably a superior, and it was easy to see where the leak had occurred. It would be easier to key someone else into the wards rather than have Spinks go back to the flat every time Sirius was needed, and you couldn't ever know who was working for Voldemort in the Ministry. One well-placed source, and he had four Death Nibblers sitting cosy in his flat._

 _He hexed and jinxed, and dodged the curses thrown his way. His quicksilver reflexes saved him from wasting time putting up shields, though occasionally he had to summon a piece of furniture to bear the brunt of an_ Avada Kedavra _or a_ Confringo _. He was very good, but facing four of Voldemort's inner circle. It took a lot out of even the best. A momentary stumble over a piece of debris had him trapped, and he was too late in avoiding the Bone-Shattering Curse. It hit his left leg, rather than his wand hand, which was what the Death Eaters had been aiming for, so he was lucky, but still in a world of pain. Dimly through his agony, he recognised the mocking baby voice his cousin Bellatrix used when she was about to 'play' with her target. Deciding to leave the flat and the report to burn, he whispered "Mischief Managed". The customary jerk behind his navel was not felt and he knew he was in dragon dung. How bloody careless could he be to leave his emergency portkey behind? He pretty much deserved anything he got after this._

 _Just as he had resigned himself to a duel to the death (probably his own) with Cousin Bella, Rodolphus, Travers and Mulciber - he'd recognised their voices from school, after all - a barrage of spellfire forced the Death Eaters to regroup. The Order had arrived, and Sirius had never been so happy to see them. His eyes narrowed, despite his gratitude, when he saw James in the thick of the fight. Honestly, he'd swear his best mate had a saving-people thing, the way he kept rushing into the thick of fights when someone he cared about was in trouble. Still, he crawled under an upturned chair and watched James, Dorcas Meadowes, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle (okay, who let Mister Barmy Top Hat in here, he shouldn't ever be fighting, he was far too excitable to hold up in a battle) and the Prewett twins give the Death Eaters hell. Satisfied that the battle was turning the Order's way, he let himself blissfully slide into oblivion._

* * *

Sirius took in the flakes of snow that drifted past the windows and downed his chocolate in a gulp. He had been carted off to St. Mungo's but had only spent a night there due to security reasons. A very shaken James brought him back to Potter Manor to convalesce. On seeing him, Lily had flown to him and slapped him hard "for worrying me half to death, Black", before pulling him into a tight hug and ordering him up to bed.

In the month he'd stayed at Potter Manor, Sirius had discovered a new reason to not risk his life needlessly; two babies who adored him. His daughter and godson were six months old now, and a gurgle from either of them made his day. He spent a lot of his time playing with them - Lily said it kept him from brooding over his injury. He had even mastered the intricacies of the arcane art of feeding children mashed carrots without getting more food in his hair than in their mouths.

Both toddlers turned his insides to mush but there were marked differences in their personalities. Harry was a bundle of energy, forever rolling over and jabbering. He trustingly allowed himself to be held by everyone (there had been a memorable incident when he'd pulled Tilly's ear) and took great pleasure in spattering Sirius with mashed potatoes. He was a highly cheerful baby who hardly ever cried, too. In stark contrast, Electra was experiencing stranger anxiety and flat out refused to let Wormtail near her. She seemed amiable enough around Moony but would bawl her lungs out if Peter picked her up. A quiet child who would gurgle madly if James was around and liked yanking off his glasses, she ate with minimal fuss and slept peacefully through the night, for which he was thankful. However, when cranky, scared or otherwise annoyed, her wails would have him frantically stuffing his fingers in his ears. She hadn't shown any accidental magic yet, which was surprising, when you considered that the infinitely more cheerful Harry had turned Sirius' nose into a red bauble and jabbered merrily. James had insisted on a photo, claiming it to be adorable. Too bad he couldn't keep off the Marauderish smirk off his face, revealing his collection of would-be blackmail material on Sirius. He smiled to himself. The children would awake any moment now.

Making his way upstairs to the nursery, he heard the ga-ga goo-goo of the tots and made his way in, calling a cheery "Look who's here!" Harry's face split in a wide, toothless grin and he merrily cooed at Sirius. Little Electra, merely cocked her head at him and blinked. Large grey eyes, so like his own, stared into his, and the tiny face took on a smile of its own. He felt his heart warm as his daughter, a phrase he could never have imagined a year back, wriggled around in her crib.

When the members of the household made their way down to breakfast and present-opening, they were graced with the addition of Moony and Wormtail to their little party. This was Remus' last Christmas in Britain, for he would leave after the New Year to turn the werewolf packs in Europe to Dumbledore's cause. His friends were not happy about this, for it would lead to long periods of absence from him, a situation exacerbated by the lack of secure communication. Nevertheless, he was determined to be useful and could not abide sitting around in Britain when he could be aiding the war effort. These depressing thoughts did not linger in anyone's minds as they were determined to make the children's first Christmas as cheery as possible, even if they wouldn't remember it.

After breakfast, when they were all seated around the merrily crackling fireplace, Electra solemnly tugged at his hair and said "Pa-foo". He blinked; he wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Pa-foo" came the little voice again, and he knew she'd just said her first word, and two months earlier than most children. He had a precocious child on hand. Well, it was perhaps too early to assume things like that, but he couldn't help it. He had the most adorable godson and daughter (and no, he wasn't biased in the slightest, thank you very much) in the world, and he was pretty sure that between him and James, they would produce a fine crop of junior Marauders to terrorise Hogwarts and drive McGonagall crazy. No, Lily need never know. She never did believe in such revolutionary ideas in the raising of children.

Moony came over to sit beside him, looking more tired than ever, and he was assailed by a wave of guilt for letting his friend spend the last full moon without him. Yes, James and Peter could help, but he was the only canine there, and thus the only one Moony could truly call pack. Remus' voice broke through the silence. "So, Pa-foo happens to be your daughter's first word, Sirius. I find it highly likely that you and James plan to indoctrinate them into Marauding soon; would I be right?"

"Shh, Moony, what if Lily hears?" he shushed frantically and looked around to see if Lily had indeed shown any signs of hearing. Luckily, she was sitting with her head on James' shoulder, bouncing Harry on her knee, the firelight glinting off her hair, lost in thought.

Remus snorted and stretched, feeling his joints pop. The last full moon had taken its toll on him, as his lycanthropy caused his body to age faster. Thankfully, his being a wizard slowed the aging down, so he looked just as a twenty-year old should. His having a pack to run with at the full moon didn't hurt in the slightest, either. He picked up Electra and said "Say it again, kiddo". "Pa-foo" said Electra brightly. James and Lily perked up on hearing their god-daughter speak, although James good-naturedly groused that her first word should have been Prongs "'cause I'm much more amazing than Padfoot is, right?"

"Pa-foo."

"Traitor."

The tableau was a charming one; four Marauders, the woman who kept three in line, and two babies, lounging in the heat of a roaring fire on Christmas Day. The large almost-family jumped into present-opening with gusto. Electra's presents (though she would only take a proper look at them years later) were highly interesting to the tot, though she loved the wrapping paper patterned with broomsticks even more.

"We should've got her a wad of wrapping paper and a large cardboard box" grinned James lazily, as he watched his goddaughter peek out from the box having a very large collection of Jambol and Gapes Wizarding Joke Shop that he'd received from the Prewett twins, with a card that said everyone needed "a honking good laugh in these troubled times".

Peter snorted and bent over to save Harry from getting lost in the pile of wrapping paper in which he was determinedly burying himself. If one looked closely, they could see him wince slightly, as if his arm hurt, but he showed no overt signs of pain, and deposited the infant in James' arms. "Well, I should really be getting on, now" he said, though his voice was slightly halting. "I promised Mum I'd pay her a visit, it being Christmas and all."

"Surely you could stay for a spot of turkey, Wormy?" smiled Lily.

"N-no, Lily, I really must be getting on" he squeaked. "See you later, everyone" he called out and walked to the Floo.

"Bye, Pete" came a chorus of voices from the room, and Wormtail was gone. Sirius felt there was something off about him, but chalked it down to nervousness at seeing his rather hypochondriac, overprotective mother, who doted on her only son. _"I've packed your teddy in case you get scared at night, darling"_ he sniggered to himself. Still, it was better than the horrible old hag, his own dearest Mother. _Mrs. Black_ , he thought cheerfully. He had nothing in Merlin's name to do with her anymore, and would much rather enjoy this delightful Christmas with his real family. All was well.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Potterverse, though I very much wish I did.

 **Author's note:** Thank you for adding me to your list of favourites, N1CkHast and RiriNight. Your continued support means an awful lot to me.


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